


I Love To Be Unhappy

by DisasterSoundtrack



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterSoundtrack/pseuds/DisasterSoundtrack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Acid is holding is dream in his lap, so close and yet so far away, New York blinking at him from behind the windowpane, every corner so familiar. Their bus tour and everything that happened during seems like another lifetime, like a dream that happened to somebody he once knew, but forgot already. He has been in love with an unreal person ever since, chasing a memory.</p><p>(Aka love and longing in New York City.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Acid is in love with an illusion.  
  
Acid is in love with someone who is not even real, someone who just can’t be, because there are limits to which a person can go, and Thorgy seems to be setting yet another bar for herself, jumping over it and then setting herself an new one, because that’s just how she rolls. Limits apply to ordinary humans, not to Thorgy Thor.  
  
“What’s up? I love you”, says Thorgy in passing, not even realizing that she’s jabbing Acid in the heart with a knife, then moving on to yet another person to whisper the same thing into their ear, probably. The bar is too crowded and too loud to have an actual human talk, and even if it wasn’t, Acid would have no idea what to talk about. Does he talk about the weather? Does he tell Thorgy how gorgeous she looks tonight? Does he fish for compliments himself? Stupid, stupid ideas. Thorgy is ten meters away, a bottle of beer in one of her hands, holding tight onto someone’s waist with the other one, her head close to the other person’s head, their cheeks brushing, a sick feeling growing in Acid’s stomach until Thorgy and the nameless man separate.  
Acid takes a few steps in Thorgy’s direction, driven by alcohol in his blood. He just wants to bask in the warmth, he just wants to suffocate himself with the smell, he doesn’t even need to touch, talk, do anything. He doesn’t, so he’s very surprised when those long arms wrap tight around him, Thorgy’s heels and big hair causing a hilarious height difference.  
  
“Don’t run from me anymore, Betty! I feel like I haven’t seen you for ages and you keep on hiding from me. That’s super unfair if you ask me.”  
  
“Uhm, sorry? I didn’t want to bother you too much.”  
  
“Don’t be stupid.” Thorgy squeezes him tighter. “I can’t wait to make out with you. After the show?”  
  
“Okay?” says Acid, his stomach twisting. Their bus tour and everything that happened during seems like another lifetime, like a dream that happened to somebody he once knew, but forgot already. He has been in love with an unreal person ever since, chasing a memory, browsing through Instagram posts of someone so full of life and light, someone who doesn’t belong anywhere or with anyone. He has been living through his own disease, letting it eat away at him while he kept on trying to enjoy the best time of his life so far.  
  
That was one hell of a ride.  
  
Thorgy lets go of him, biting his earlobe lightly for good measure, and suddenly this night seems like yet another part of a dream. Acid is alright with that.  
  
*  
  
Thorgy is onstage, burning it down.  
  
_I love to be unhappy,_  
_I live to be in pain_  
_When days are golden sunshine,_  
_I’m looking for the rain._  
  
This is a typical New York evening like it’s been for Thorgy for years, a fun Broadway showtune, wild hair, thick eyeliner and a short dress that shows off her legs, only nothing is the same anymore, because the clubs she used to perform in would never fit the amount of people who come to watch her now, and she’s not able to fit all her tips in her bra anymore. Other than that, it’s the same old story, only now Acid gets to watch her do her thing from backstage on his day off, just one in the tight schedule of plane flights, airport layovers and appearances all around the country.  
  
Thorgy is graceful, Thorgy is beautiful, Thorgy makes the audience laugh, Thorgy was supposed to win the whole damn thing, the only reason she didn’t being the unstoppable Bob force.  
  
“Thank you guys so so much, you’re fucking amazing, I love you and see you next time!”  
  
Thorgy runs backstage, cash spilling off her hands, she’s laughing and giggling and almost tripping in her heels, seeing Acid patiently waiting for her. She quickly approaches him, limbs draping all over him again, and she’s hugging him so tight Acid can hardly breathe before she lets him go, leaving a lipstick stain on his cheek. He wants to kiss her so much, wants to kiss Thorgy, wants to kiss Shane, wants to kiss whoever is available at the moment. He just wants this feeling again.  
  
Thorgy is looking at him with sparkly eyes. Thorgy is graceful, Thorgy is beautiful, Thorgy is drunk.  
  
“You wanna take a cab to my place?” she asks, her index finger hooked over the collar of Acid’s shirt, making him sweat in anticipation of who the hell even knows what.  
  
Well, he knows what, and he sure as hell knows Thorgy knows too. It’s just not the right moment to admit it, because Acid is not sure if the emotions that made them drift to each other during the bus tour are still there. He knows what he’s feeling, but you can’t force the chemistry: it’s either there or it’s not.

Judging from the way Thorgy’s breath is getting closer and closer to his face, giving him shivers, the chemistry is there alright. Or it’s all the alcohol.  
  
“Let’s go then. You wanna de-drag?”  
  
“No, home. I’ll just - ”, she takes off her heels, replacing them with jelly flats, picks up her crumpled tips and unpins her wig, throwing it all into a bag. “Ready! Now let’s go. I’m exhausted.” Thorgy hooks her arm beneath Acid’s, laying some of her weight on him, letting herself be guided out of the club through the labirynth of backstage corridors, where there’s luckily nobody disturbing them.  
  
She smells as if spring came back and stayed forever, but she smells a little bit like beer, too.  
  
In the cab, they both take the backseat. Acid is aware of Thorgy’s every little movement as she looks at him, shortly, then looks at the driver, then throws her legs over Acid’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, her face probably leaving makeup smears on Acid’s black t-shirt. She gives one small, satisfied purr when he surrounds her with his arms, gently rubbing her thigh.  
  
“You okay, kitty? Don’t fall asleep yet.”  
  
“I won’t, I’ve waited way too long to finally have you”, she mutters, but the movement of the car makes her breath even out anyway. Acid is holding is dream in his lap, so close and yet so far away, New York blinking at him from behind the windowpane, every corner so familiar. The car pulls to a stop and Thorgy stirs out of her nap, untangling Acid from her tentacle limbs, insisting to pay the cabbie in her tips. Acid leaves the car and extends a hand towards Thorgy, just as bait, just as an experiment, so when Thorgy takes it like it’s something natural and an obvious thing to do, his eyebrows wander very high up his forehead.  
  
“Hi”, she says, smiling a silly and adorable smile, her dreadlocks falling out of a bun. He doesn’t know how to respond, this is not making any sense, any of this. They’re standing in front of Thorgy’s building. “Cat got your tongue, Jamin? Are you coming up with me or what?”  
  
“Lead the way”, he finally manages, and she pulls him to the door and then upstairs.  
  
Thorgy’s apartment is a mess, but he didn’t expect anything else after seeing her work station on Drag Race: colorful clown wigs hanging from every available surface, a closet that can’t be closed, outfits spilling out, empty coffee cups you have to mind while walking. Thorgy doesn’t seem to mind much as she sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress squeaking, and tries to take off her drag while seated. When that doesn’t seem to be working, she gets up with a deep sigh, rolling down her tights, throwing her pads across the room, squirming out of a short dress.  
  
Acid decides to turn away, give Thorgy some privacy, noticing some pictures hung up on walls, but the light in the room is too dimmed to make out who is on them, until he hears Thorgy’s laugh.  
  
“Come on, like you’ve never seen me naked before!”  
  
Somebody definitely has seen Thorgy naked before. Acid Betty has, in a different lifetime, seen Thorgy naked multiple times, but now he doesn’t want to. That would cheapen the moment, so he refuses to look.  
  
“There, prude, I’m all dressed up now! Gonna wash my face off now, or do you wanna make out first?”  
  
Thorgy is just teasing - or is she? She shouldn’t be, because that would be hurtful and unfair. Acid turns around to see her, but Thorgy is gone and it’s Shane now, seated by the mirror in a black t-shirt and boxer shorts, lipstick already gone, now taking off his eyeliner. Acid sits down on the bed, the mattress squeaking again under his weight, the sheets soft and comfortable under his fingers, Shane taking his sweet time by the mirror, yawning widely.  
  
“How long was the meet and greet today? You seem so exhausted.”  
  
“Oh, there was no official meet and greet tonight, I was just hanging out with people by the bar for like - two hours? Maybe three? They were buying me a lot of drinks.”  
  
“They always do, huh?”  
  
“Well, wouldn’t you?” Shane turns to Acid with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle, his make-up already all gone, more or less, shuts off the mirror lights and climbs into bed. “Why are you still wearing clothes, mister? No shoes in the bed. No socks either. And no jeans.”  
  
“Damn, Thorg, what _can_ I wear to your bed, then?”  
  
“Nothing, preferably.”  
  
Acid doesn’t say that he shouldn’t really be sleeping here at all, because his suitcases are waiting to be packed in his own apartment for a flight to Austin he’s got at 11 AM. He doesn’t say that he’s hungry and that his head hurts; that can all wait to be dealt with later, when there’s no Thorgy taking over each and every one of his senses, filling up 100% of his thoughts.  
  
“Okay, bathroom?”  
  
Thorgy waves his hand in a direction of the door. The bathroom is as messy as the rest of the apartment, but being alone for five minutes allows him to put on a face of sorts. _Don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous. This is Shane, you know him well, everything’s gonna be okay. This is not your first date or anything, because you’re not dating. This is not your reunion, because you’re not a couple. This isn’t anything. Just two good friends, one quite drunk, sharing a bed for a couple of hours. Doesn’t mean anything._  
  
When Acid emerges from the bathroom, Shane is already asleep. Of course. Trying not to disturb Sleeping Beauty too much, Acid lies down next to him, no shoes, socks or jeans, as the rule said. Shane stirs just a little, moving around so he can touch Acid, ending up with his head on the older man’s chest, their bodies extremely close.  
  
_We have never slept together like that_ , Acid realizes. _We have never fallen asleep together. This feels weird, but it’s a good weird._  
  
If it’s the first and the last time, that’s okay. Shane’s hand finds Acid’s, fingers joining.  
  
“Sorry I’m so tired. You can still fuck me if you want to, I’ll be a good girl.” Shane’s voice is barely there.  
  
“I can wait.” There might not be another opportunity anytime soon, but that’s just another thing Acid is not going to mention. Shane’s lips are close enough and just at the right angle, so there’s no way to resist pressing at least a short, close-mouthed kiss against them, just to feel this heat for a few seconds again.  
  
Thorgy nuzzles against the skin of Acid’s neck, going off like a light in two minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

Mornings are painful and cruel, especially if you work in nightlife, especially if you wake up at 7 AM in a bed that's not yours, but still smells kind of familiar, long fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place, making you feel grounded. Acid groans internally, but the reality is cruel and getting up is mandatory, even if the only thing he wants is to be buried between sheets and pillows that smell of Shane.

Shane is asleep, limbs everywhere, the sheets rolled and tangled around both their legs. He looks so cozy, so comfy and so at peace that Acid debates leaving without waking him up, maybe just leaving behind a note, but he's too selfish and can't really deny himself the pleasure of hearing Shane's voice and seeing his smile for just one more time. He touches his arm, running his hand up and down the naked, warm skin.

"Thorg? Thorgy, hey."

Thorgy makes a very unhappy sound. "Mhhhhm? D'you water the plants?"

"What? No, I just - I have to go. I have a plane to catch and - I'm leaving, sorry."

"Don't." Shane's eyes fly open and he's shaking his head like he’s trying to get rid of sleepiness, but he only manages to push himself further into the pillows. "Can I go? To the airport?"

"I gotta go home and pack first."

"Take me with!" Shane clambers out of the bed, so fast Acid wonders how he didn't get dizzy, goes to the closet to find a pair of pants and a hoodie, adding some stuff to the clothes decorating the floor in the process, then starts putting on shoes. "Here, I'm ready! What are you looking at? Put your pants on and let's go! Can we get, like, coffee and some food on the way?"

Acid just nods with a grin, running a hand through his own messy hair. Where the hell are his jeans? "Sure, that would be great."

*

Thorgy is fully awake during the cab ride, telling ridiculous stories of his latest adventures, making Acid smile so hard he feels muscles on his face he didn't even know existed. The flood of words from Thorgy's mouth just keeps going, some of it flying right over Acid's head while he fixes his gaze on Thorgy's lips, hoping to get away with it for a second.

"Hey mister?" Thorgy's words drag him out of the trance. "You're staring."

"I'm sorry." He feels heat creeping up his cheeks, _I'm busted, I'm so busted_ , and he desperately wishes for an open window and a gust of fresh air, but Thorgy doesn't really care as he just runs the back of his hand against Acid's cheek, batting his eyelashes behind the glasses, his expression unexpectedly serious.

"Don't be sorry, silly."

This is the moment, Acid thinks, absolutely ready to finally chance it and throw caution to the wind, because he knows he can, he should just fucking kiss Shane, it's been long enough and it's not like it would be their first, but he waits for a second too long and the moment is gone, Shane letting go and facing the front of the car again.

"So anyway, I walk into this club and..."

*

Turns out Thorgy is a huge help with packing, so they get everything done pretty fast and it's 8:30 when they leave for the airport, sitting down for coffee and breakfast as soon as they get there.

"So, how have you been? You're letting me talk over you all the time, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Now go, tell me everything."

Acid is trying, noticing moments where Thorgy is squirming to comment, but he's keeping himself from doing that, just listening. That always costs Thorgy a lot, so Acid is grateful that he's trying, overwhelmed by the stupid, bright and bubbly feeling he's got for the other guy.

Their coffees go cold as the white noise of the airport washes over both of them, and Acid finally wills the awkwardness away, finding himself genuinely enjoying that short blink of time with Thorgy, already trying to figure out when and where they can see each other again.

Acid knows this moment is going to change into yet another memory, a snapshot lost in time, with Thorgy twisting his cup of coffee around, smiling a half smile and the clock striking the hour that Acid hoped would never come. He needs to get going if he wants to make the plane.

"Sure, okay, let's go. Help you with the bags?" Thorgy grabs the handle of one suitcase while Acid takes the other.

Their final moments together last way too short and before they can even blink Acid realizes the other man is reaching for his hand, squeezing it in a way that suggests it's time to say goodbye. They're standing right by TSA.

"Have a safe trip and text me when you land, alright? I'm in New York for two more days."

"Do you even know where your phone is, Thorgy?"

"Of course, it's right he - " Thorgy pats his pants pockets, then his hoodie pockets. "I swear I was sure it was here, ugh, I must've left it at home."

"It's okay. I'll text you."

"It was great seeing you, bye!" Thorgy gives him a rapid fire fast hug and a kiss to the cheek, like he suddenly wants to leave right now, just this second, so Acid gathers all of his hurt feelings and tries not to let them spill as he lets go of Thorgy's hand and gets in line for the security check, sending Thorgy one last smile and a wave before turning away.

He's swallowing the bitterness when he hears, "Jamin!"

Thorgy looks absolutely panicked. Acid takes two panicked steps in Thorgy's direction, and Thorgy takes two in his. Their hands meet first, grabbing for each other, and then Thorgy is pulling him close, their chests clashing with a thump as they go for a desperate kiss, both at the same time. The feeling of Thorgy's lips on his is even better and more intense than Acid remembers, and there's people around them, so many people, but probably literally no one cares and they also couldn't care less about them. This moment is what matters, the feeling of Thorgy's slutty tongue between his teeth and Thorgy's fingers digging into Acid's hips, and neither of them can breathe, reeling from the intensity. Acid tries to pull the other man even closer than possible by the back of his neck, the overwhelming need almost making him cry out.

When it ends, all the other sensations come back into their world rapidly: the airport noises, the air conditioning, the time slipping away, but they're not letting go of each other and Acid is trying to hide his face in Thorgy's hair.

"Are last minute plane tickets a thing? Because I really fucking want to go with you right now", says Thorgy. Acid can't really think clearly, his nerves nearly exploding with adrenaline and endorphins, the whole world a blur of _yes yes yes, fucking finally_ , and _thank you baby Jesus._

"You can't, you have your own thing to do, remember?" He's trying to be the voice of reason, even though the thing he wants to do the most is to smuggle Thorgy onto the plane somehow.

"I know", Thorgy groans, brushing his cheek against Acid's, stubble on stubble, and damn, Acid should really get going now or he'll never leave, ever. "I just fucking hate it."

When they let go, they're both faking smiles, and Thorgy is bouncing on his feet when he's waving goodbye.

*

**From: Thorgy Thor  
To: Acid Betty**

_Found my phone LOL! Why did you fckn wait until the very last sec to make out w me?_

**From: Acid Betty  
To: Thorgy Thor**

_I'm not sure. Guess I didn't want to force anything? Ps landed safely in Austin_

**From: Thorgy Thor  
To: Acid Betty**

_Ok good! You are being silly, next time I'm making the first move, you chicken_

**From: Acid Betty  
To: Thorgy Thor**

_When is the next time?_

**From: Thorgy Thor  
To: Acid Betty**

_Season finale taping in LA. See you there!_

*

The reunion is a blur of hugs, _hey girl, how you've been_ s and then onstage suffering for hours and hours on end. Acid can barely squeeze in a three minute conversation with Thorgy, but when they first see each other, he's afraid his face is going to fall off from the smiling. The other man does a little happy dance and then they fall into each other's embrace for a moment. Thorgy breathes a tired sigh of relief and then starts talking very fast, but someone yells that they should be somewhere this very instant, so that's all there is of their little reunion.

But then the taping ends, there's an open bar and a party, and Acid Betty is put on a spin at the top gear just for a little while longer, until it's the dead of the night between one vodka Red Bull and another and Thorgy appears seemingly out of nowhere to kiss Acid on the neck from behind, almost causing her knees to give out.

"Can we please leave already? I'm so fucking wasted and done and horny, can we just go to your room? Please?" Thorgy is half-whispering, half straight up moaning, while Acid is glad she's already removed the bottom half of her couture gown, because Thorgy wouldn't even be able to approach her that close if it was still in the game.

So Thorgy really meant it about taking the initiative. "Okay, let's bail. Come on." Acid grabs her by the hand, hoping that nobody notices, hoping that everybody notices, too, it depends what Thorgy would want, but it's hard to tell as she's just giggling at this very moment. They make their way out of the hotel bar and to the lobby, almost getting lost.

Bob is in the lobby, talking on the phone, that hideous purse tucked under his arm, his wig almost falling off. It's been a long day. And night.

"Gotta go, I'm being ambushed by some clowns." Bob hangs up, looking at the other two queens, raising a painted eyebrow. "What are you guys up to? Y'all look suspicious, are you planning on stealing the crown?"

"No, don't worry." Thorgy is slightly tipsy, swaying in her heels next to Betty who's still holding her hand tight. "We're just gonna fuck."

"Ugh, Thorg, TMI, seriously." Bob looks from Thorgy, who's giggling uncontrollably, to Acid, who can do nothing but shrug and feel the blush creeping up her cheeks, luckily caked in makeup. "Now that's a mental image I'll never erase. Goodnight, sluts", Bob flicks his wrist, leaving them behind, Thorgy using the opportunity to lead Acid in the direction of the elevator.

It's hard not to get caught up in Thorgy's aura. The air around Thorgy makes everybody glow a shade brighter, smile a little wider, souls being saved by this contagious laugh, life almost becoming this fun and easy game that you can play when you can start anew each time you wake up. Acid imagines that's how everybody who is not in love with Thorgy must feel, because being in love with Thorgy turns the fun game into a darker experience with a whole lot of obstacles, where you can't kiss her in the elevator because you're still not sure if you're supposed to and where you can't ever live up to your own expectations of being worthy of Thorgy's attention and affection.

"Why are you pouting, girl? We had a good run on the show, it's only getting better from now on, you know what I mean?"

"No, it's not that, I'm pouting because I really wanna kiss you now and I know the elevator will stop and open in like 10 seconds." Betty is shocked by her own honestly, but she sees the devilish light turn on in Thorgy's eyes as the other queen leans in, joining their lips, pulling on Acid's lip ring and fighting for balance as the elevator door slides open at their floor, breaking the moment before any of them can get into it.

"Told you."

"That's because you've wasted too much time talking instead of doing." Thorgy retrieves a room card out of her bra. All of their rooms are on the same floor. "You have 20 minutes to take all of this off and I'll be all up in your business", she says, wagging her finger in front of Betty and walking away backwards, as if she was on the main stage again.

Acid's chest hurts. It might be the corset, but it might as well be all Thorgy's fault, she thinks, stepping out of her shoes in the silence of her hotel room. Yeah, it's probably not the corset.

Thorgy knocks on the door 15 minutes later.


	3. Chapter 3

"Your make-up is still on? I gave you so much time, come on, that's unfair." To be clear, Acid's face is perfectly make-up free, but his neck and upper chest are still covered in body paint, while Thorgy looks and smells like he just hopped out of the shower, his dreadlocks dripping wet to his t-shirt while he’s standing in Acid’s hotel room doorway, leaning to the left side.

"Sorry?" Acid shrugs, trying to make an apologetic face, but Thorgy doesn't mind, wasting no time as he invades Acid's personal space, puts his hands on his naked chest, walking forwards and forcing Acid to walk backwards until his knees buckle in contact with the hotel bed, free from any drag paraphernalia that could bother them. Acid made sure of that.

Thorgy straddles him as they both sit on the bed, electricity flying between them in sparks that almost seem tangible. Counting how much time has passed ever since their last time, ever since the tour, is pointless, because this feels different; as impossible as it is, this one is real, and Acid is scared to hell and back that this one actually means something.

To be fair, everything means something with Thorgy while it's happening; it's only afterwards that you realize you were just a short bling on his radar.

There's no more time for regrets, no more time for thinking. Thorgy is in Acid's lap, dangerously close and not close enough, hands on Acid's throat as if he's contemplating choking him, but it turns out he's just smearing the colorful body paint, getting his own hands dirty and then looking at them like they're some strange work of art.

Shane is the most beautiful person who has ever walked into Acid's life, head first, shoes on.

Their first real kiss tonight is like starting up fire. It makes the flames explode all the way to the ceiling, making Acid realize just how much he wants that man in his lap who's just running his tongue over Acid's bottom lip before diving in, deeper and deeper, moaning greedily, and how does a moan like that don't shatter walls, windows, Acid's entire heart? Breathing in short gasps, he's kissing along Thorgy's jawline, sucking the skin in, leaving marks on his lover's neck, and oh, how much he adores doing that, how much he loves sending Thorgy this close to the edge.

"Touch me, please touch me", grunts Thorgy, guiding Acid's hand from his back to his erection, perfectly available to the touch through loose pyjama bottoms Shane is wearing. Acid relishes in the feeling for just a second before reaching below the waistband to properly wrap his hand around Thorgy's cock, flicking his thumb over the drop of precum on top, both their breaths catching in their throats before Thorgy dives in for another kiss that sends Acid to his back, the water from Thorgy's dreads dripping on him now.

"Off", he commands, pulling on Thorgy's pyjamas, and the other man squirms out of them, taking off the shirt, too, and sending it flying across the room with a grin. Acid takes off his own underwear, enjoying how Thorgy's eyes go wide and how he's biting his lip at the sight. "Your glasses, too."

"Yes, yes, okay." Thorgy takes the glasses off, putting them away on the nightstand, then crawling back to bed, letting Acid push him into the pillows and lay on top of him, their dicks brushing against each other. The room is suddenly many degrees too hot because Acid can feel drops of sweat rolling down his back as he touches Shane's arms, up and down, admiring the weird tattoos and the freckles here and there, until Thorgy speaks up.

"I've missed you so much, I've wanted this with you for so long, please Jamin, please, I want nobody, no one, more than you, oh God." Thorgy is clinging to Acid's upper arms now, black nail polish still on, hands dirty from Acid's body paint, his hairy legs tangled with Acid's, breath hot on his face. Slowly, carefully, Acid touches Thorgy's cheek, making eye contact.

This is not the time for confessions and declarations, but he has to bite his own tongue so hard not to say anything. He just nods and kisses Thorgy, because he knows how to do that, drowning in his lover's long limbs, the younger guy asking for more, more, more, asking for everything, so Acid has to stand up and rummage through his suitcase in search of lube and condoms. Thorgy stays silent throughout that, which is so very out of character for him Acid starts worrying.

But it's all okay as Thorgy appears right by his side, intercepting the condoms, tearing the wrapping open and carefully rolling one onto Acid's erection. Acid sits on the bed again, Thorgy standing above him, opening up the bottle of lube with a little giggle that somehow sounds both innocent and vulgar.

“Come here.”

“I am. I’m right here, Thorgles.”

“You know what I mean, don’t play.”

Acid leans his back against the bedpost, Thorgy throwing all the pillows away in a fury-like state, then lubing up his own fingers and shoving two of them in with a loud grunt, working himself open.

“Baby - I could -”

“No”, says Thorgy, one hand on Acid’s stomach, kneeling on the bed. The look before Acid’s eyes is too much, too hot and he’s straining not to touch his own painfully hard dick, but he won’t, he can’t. He grabs Thorgy by the wrist instead, to feel like he has at least a tiny bit of control, getting closer to the other man, so close they almost become one entity.

“Baby.” Acid gently removes Thorgy’s fingers, the sudden emptiness making the other man gasp. It seems like Thorgy is about to fall apart, his entire body trembling, eyes pleading, begging. “Should we put on some music? It’s Kim’s room on the other side of the wall, do we want her to listen to us being vulgar? Or - ”, he can’t finish the sentence, because Thorgy chooses that very moment to grab Acid’s cock by the base and sink himself down onto it, the warmth embracing Acid, making him look up at Thorgy’s face, a little wicked grin decorating his features, and yes, _this is it_ , now they’re one. Now the wait is over and Thorgy has his palms firmly clasped on Acid’s shoulders, moving to adjust. Acid snaps his hips up and send everything into motion.

The sound Thorgy makes as he frantically grabs for the headboard sends shivers down Acid’s spine, making him wish he had a headboard to grab onto as well, but he satisfies himself with holding onto Thorgy’s shoulders, trying to keep a steady rhythm of his thrusts.

“Oh God, oh God, oh my God.” Thorgy never stops talking, moaning, screaming almost. Acid tries to go in for a kiss to silence him, but none of them are coherent enough to pull that off, so Acid uses whatever strength he’s got left to send Thorgy to his back, changing their positions, the entire world spinning as Thorgy makes a surprised little sound of joy. “Oh. Hello.”

Acid puts his hand over Thorgy’s mouth and holds it there firmly, preventing any noises from escaping, Thorgy’s eyes growing wide. Acid can tell they’re both very close to their release and he never stops moving his hips for a second, the headboard bangs against the wall and poor Kim if she’s in her room already, Thorgy’s legs wrapped high around Acid’s waist. His mind is almost completely blank except for registering the full-body shudder that goes through Thorgy’s body, the man going tense in Acid’s arms, spilling his release.

“Here’s my good girl. Easy now.” Acid lets go, taking his hand off Thorgy’s mouth, a breathless gasp leaving the younger man as he’s riding through his orgasm, nails drawn into the flesh of his lover’s back, eyes closed, mouth open, so perfect it makes Acid’s entire body ache, that and the shocks going through their melted together bodies sending him over the edge and into the world of white, hot, electric pleasure, and he closes his eyes, too, the entire experience being way too much to handle all at once. Acid is getting flashbacks to his first time, only his first time was terrible, and this? This is everything but.

When he opens his eyes again, Thorgy has already gotten rid of the condom and cleaned up and is curled into a ball next to Acid, a huge smile on his lips. “Hey. Thanks for that. A lot.”

“You’re welcome”, he answers, breathlessly. His hand hovers over Thorgy’s hip before he finally decides to put it there, the other man purring like a cat, the grin always present.

“So. I guess I’ll be going, then.” Thorgy jumps off the bed, quickly looking around to locate his clothes, and Acid doesn’t really know what to say until he lets his feelings rule over his brain for a second.

“Stay, maybe?”

“You sure?” Thorgy has pulled on his pyjama bottoms already. They don’t do that, they never do that and they’re not supposed to be doing that, none of them drunk enough to justify this behavior, but what the hell, Acid nods and Thorgy quickly slides back into bed, pulling covers over both of them. There’s a moment of hesitation on both their sides, but it doesn’t last, Thorgy going for a full-body hug almost at the same moment Acid does, the slow, relaxed atmosphere of the moment allowing them to make out lazily for a while.

“So. The finale, right? It all feels so - overwhelming, I think overwhelming is the right word, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. But I’m also glad to be seeing everyone again.”

“Oh, sure”, says Thorgy, absent-mindedly playing with the ring in Acid’s lower lip. “Me too.”

“How many of these girls did you sleep with?” The question is out there before Acid stops himself, but he’s just fucking glad that it finally left his system. He fully expects Thorgy to say Bob, to say Naomi, to say Cynthia, to say everyone, but he also expects him to say _it's just you, silly_.

"Just two", says Thorgy, and something clicks, becoming painfully clear. "You and Laila."

Of course, of course it’s Laila, young, short, curvy and funny, of course it’s Laila, Acid doesn’t need any more explanations, but Thorgy just keeps on explaining, the avalanche already in motion.

"It wasn't, like, a thing or anything, it just happened once. He kept sending me dirty pictures for a while afterwards, but then it all died down. So, there."

"Alright."

"Are you mad?” Thorgy tries to cuddle closer, so Acid humors him, wrapping his arms tighter around the other man’s body, but still trying to process the newly acquired information.

“Why would I be mad?”

"Oh, come on. I don’t know. Did I ruin the moment?"

"Yeah, a little. But I asked, so that's only fair."

“Ugh, I’m so terrible sometimes. Sorry.”

 _Yeah, you are_ , Acid wants to say, but says, “Give it a break already” instead, the only person he’s mad at being himself.

He's falling asleep with Thorgy in his very arms, for some reason feeling like they're further away from each other than ever before.

*

Thorgy is gone in the morning, not even a memory, not even a trace. Thorgy has perfected the disappearing act, Thorgy is everywhere and nowhere at all. He’s not in his hotel room, because it’s already empty; he’s not at breakfast in the hotel restaurant either and it’s not like Acid is looking for him, but he finally finds him outside of the hotel, by the cab rank, sitting on a suitcase and smoking a cigarette.

“Thorg, are you smoking?”

“No.” Thorgy looks around in panic, taking another drag anyway.

“Alright, whatever you say... Do you wanna go have breakfast? You were not trying to leave without saying goodbye, right? Or are you?”

“No, of course not! Don’t be silly. I’m just - chilling out here, you know? The weather is so nice.” Thorgy fiddles with the collar of his t-shirt, clearly distressed or unsure about something, flicking invisible dust off his pants.

The kiss happens out of nowhere; suddenly Thorgy is up on his feet, a cab pulling up, ignored, a cigarette butt dropped to the ground, ignored, Chi Chi walking out through the hotel door, taking a step back when she sees them, ignored. Suddenly there’s teeth and hair-pulling and arm-scratching and lip-tugging, suddenly the only missing thing is rapid rainfall from the morning sky to turn it into a paperback romance moment.

But there’s no rain. There’s no paperback romance. There might be no romance at all, sorry girl, next, because Thorgy pulls away, shaking his head, looking everywhere but Acid’s face.

“Hey Jamin, sorry, but I, I have one question. Help me out here, alright?’’

“Okay. Shoot.” The question could be anything, really, from _why did you do so goddamn bad in Snatch Game_ to _why don’t you finally leave me the fuck alone_ , and Acid wishes to be anywhere but here, because he’s dreading the question.

“I know you’re gonna be at the NYC viewing party for the finale, so after that, do you wanna sleep over? Maybe?”

Acid dares to look at Thorgy’s face instead of the ground, the other man’s arms raised slightly, eyebrows drawn together in anticipation, and Acid doesn’t know how to answer the question to make it all okay.

“Are y’all done with the PDA? Lord Jesus, some folks just want a cab to the airport’’, drawls Chi Chi from the hotel door, breaking the moment, causing Thorgy to grab for the handle of his suitcase and start loading it in the trunk of the nearest cab.

“Thorgy, wait. I’m sorry. We never seem to get enough time to talk things through.” Acid tries to grab Thorgy’s arm, but stops himself. The other man turns to him anyway.

“Is there anything that needs to be talked through? I just asked if you wanna sleep over. It’s a simple question.”

“I - I do. Sure I wanna sleep over. What the hell did you fucking think? Jesus.”

Thorgy giggles, the good mood somehow back again like somebody turned on the light. “Okay, good. Amazing! I’m gonna go to the airport now. Bye.” He leans in, kissing Acid on the lips again, briefly this time, but his hand lingers on Acid’s shoulder, never minding Bob’s yell from behind his back, “WOULD YOU TWO PLEASE STOP THIS ALREADY OR HELP ME GOD I WILL END BOTH OF YOU.”

“Shut up, Bob.” Acid rolls his eyes, grateful and relieved, letting Thorgy get inside his taxi with Chi Chi and Bob. “Okay. See you all next week.”

Thorgy waves through an open car window, quickly disappearing, Acid’s guts tying themselves into a knot, but then his phone vibrates, showing him a new message from Thorgy.

**To: Acid Betty**  
**From: Thorgy Thor**

_Do u wanna keep sleeping over whenever we get the chance?_

 

**To: Thorgy Thor**  
**From: Acid Betty**

_I would love to_

 

Thorgy responds with a smiling face and Acid keeps staring at the screen, wondering how he got so lucky, before he realizes somebody is hovering over his arm, looking at his phone screen too.

“You realize I’ve heard you guys fucking last night, right?’’ Kim’s expression is absolutely unreadable, but he still grins when Acid flips him off and leaves him behind, walking back into the hotel to start packing.

As the countdown to next week begins in his head, memories from last night are keeping him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now, folks! Thank you for reading and commenting! I might revisit this verse in the future, though. Remember to hit me up with prompts, opinions, love and hate.


	4. Careless

_We were not supposed to happen._

They were not, never, and Shane can keep on telling himself that as much as he wants to, his mind spinning at the highest gear as he’s being pressed against the wall, Jamin’s hands all over him, struggling to breathe until he decides to give up, give up on everything and just be in the moment.

He could be saying words right now.

He could be saying _I missed you, I missed you so bad, I had a crazy month but every night was fucking torture without you there, even when I was drunk._

He could be saying _I know we’re making a mistake, you know that, we both know that, and every time I close my eyes I wonder how many other people you’re sleeping with._

He could be saying, _I hope our lust never ends, because if it does, it will just be me against my feelings, and I don’t even want to look at them._

He could be saying, _we should…_

“Thorg. You’re thinking too loud, it’s distracting.” Jamin takes a break from leaving marks on Shane’s neck to speak up.

“Sorry, sorry.” Shane stuffs all the words he could be saying deep into his throat to never ever speak them, he swallows them and throws himself at Jamin, with kisses and grabbing hands and intoxicating swirls of tongue, trying to drown himself, lose himself, find himself somewhere else.

His blood is a constant hum in his head when Jamin drops to his knees, unbuckling Shane’s pants in a move that seems unnecessarliy theatrical and rehearsed, but hey, one should not complain when about to receive a treat.

*  
_Come on, pick yourself up. Nobody likes you like this, nobody likes anybody like this. You have to try harder, you have to make something good happen, come on._

Shane’s consciousness is haunting him, but nothing helps, not even self-inflicted threats. It’s just him and the bed, too warm and comfortable, the plaid thrift store blanket too heavy to ever be lifted.

Jamin left for the airport hours ago, sometime after the night has ended and before the morning has started. He left with burning kisses pressed all over his face by half-awake Shane, he left saying words that meant nothing. Becoming a total cliché was easier than Shane could’ve ever expected.

Shane’s body feels like it’s paralyzed. It’s totally limp, weighing about a thousand pounds until a strange sensation goes through it, and Shane recognizes it from a long, long time ago. He forces himself to open his mouth, let a breath come out, but it leaves with a loud sigh, that turns into a quiet scream, that turns into a cry.

He can’t take this. He wants to be out, away, drunk and forgetting about everything except the stage, the lights, the music and the cheering crowd, but he’s got no responsibilities until tomorrow, his schedule absolutely empty for the next 40 hours or so, and loneliness feels like a disease. A disease without an easy cure.

He fishes his phone out of the pocket of his pants on the floor and types out a message to Jamin.

 **Thorgy Thor, 9:52 AM:** I’m so alone

Teardrops spin in his eyes before they drop to the comforter, Shane deleting the message before it’s sent and turning the phone off completely.

*

Jamin is a mystery wrapped in a riddle, even after all these years.

“Remember when we first met?” he asks, a summer night in full bloom around them as they sit on the floor of Shane’s balcony in just their t-shirts and underwear, Shane enjoying a cigarette. Jamin reaches out to run a hand up Shane’s thigh, his arm muscles flexing as he wraps his fingers around the flesh there, and Shane can’t stop staring.

“Huh?”

“When we first met. Twelve years ago, right?”

“Oh my God, I had short hair. I had short hair, didn’t I?” Shane’s mind is already running in fifteen different directions. He puts the cigarette out against the railing, tossing the butt into an ashtray.

“Probably. I wasn’t really paying attention, I was too busy trying to get you into some empty dressing room and have my way with you.” Jamin runs his fingers through his own hair, Shane already missing his touch. “But it didn’t work out.”

“Ooooh, I was with this guy then! I don’t remember his name, was it Paul? I think it was Paul. He was cute, but fuck, he was dumb as hell. He was once like, _hey Shane, how does the subway work? How does it run on electricity if there’s no sun down there?”_

Jamin grins, situating himself opposite of Shane in between his legs, pulling him close by the waist. “So you remember something like that, but you’re not sure about the guy’s name.”

“I don’t know, Jamin, I might’ve as well made it all up, who the hell knows.”

“With your twisted mind, it’s a possibility.” Jamin tips Shane’s chin up and Shane doesn’t even wait two seconds before he’s leaning in, capturing the other man’s lips in a kiss, New York roaring down below them, all of its lights a neverending parade of possibilities, lost chances and the fear of what’s about to come. Jamin is holding on a little differently, both hands on the back of Shane’s neck like he’s afraid to let go, and suddenly there’s nothing sexual about the kiss, it’s just raw intensity and a strange new feeling that’s impossible to shake off.

“What’s wrong?”

Jamin looks at him like a deer in headlights. “I - I don’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

”But it feels weird, doesn’t it?”

“It does. Do it again.” He urges Jamin closer, softly closing his lips around his lip ring, knowing how it always works for both of them. Okay, the fire in Shane’s lower stomach is back, but the weird feeling is there as well, sitting on a throne and laughing at both of them.

“Should we, I don’t know, fuck the strangeness away?” Shane asks, Jamin rolling his eyes at him.

“We should eat something first, because I’m starving. Then we can do whatever.”

The “whatever” ends up being a quick mutual handjob in front of the TV while the late night news is on, and then a miserable attempt at a shower together, which makes Shane laugh so much he’s swallowing soap bubbles. He loves seeing Jamin happy, or no, not really; he loves _making_ Jamin happy. Shane would laugh and anything and everything, but making Jamin laugh in an honest, open way is a challenge, and Shane loves a challenge.

Bubbles cover Shane’s entire chest and Jamin swipes a handful of them, smashing them into Shane’s face and laughing hysterically.

“You motherfucker!” Shane spits out some of the foam, attacking Jamin with tickles to knock the breath out of him, both of them giggling until tears run down their cheeks and then making out beneath running water, slowly going cold.

*

The music is fast and loud enough to not leave any room for thinking. Or talking, for that matter. Jamin leans in to say something to Shane, but Shane cannot make out a single word, both of them just giving up on the conversation for now.

They made a point of coming out to a club where they didn’t know anyone and nobody knew them, some faraway part of Harlem and it’s not even a gay club, it’s just a sleazy disco with cheap diluted alcohol and dubstep playing at murderous volume. It’s nearing morning, but the crowd isn’t thinning, and it would push their bodies together if they weren’t pressed close to each other already.

Shane is looking into Jamin’s light grey eyes behind the stupid thick glass frames, only inches separating their faces, only seconds separating this particular moment in time from the other moment in which they’ll be full-on making out on the dancefloor.

He’s supposed to board a plane in about five hours, so he should make every second count. Before he fully leans in, Jamin meets him halfway. He’s drunk, or buzzed at least, the taste of vodka Red Bulls he’s been liberally drinking throughout the night lingering on his tongue. If Shane only could, he would like to drench himself in vodka Red Bulls and let Jamin drink him, every little last drop.

“I hate this music!” Jamin says, and Shane can finally hear him, maybe their wavelenghts have connected or something. Jamin’s hands have wandered beneath Shane’s t-shirt, warm against his slightly sweaty skin, while Shane keeps his palms firmly placed on Jamin’s denim-clad ass.

“Yeah, it’s terrible”, he giggles, trying to imitate Acid Betty’s prized eyeroll and failing, the lust causing him to lean forward again, and they find out it’s perfecty possible to keep on dancing to the rhythm while making out.

 

*  
Of course Shane doesn’t own a car. He might be a crazy person alright, but he’s still a New Yorker and a travelling drag queen and he doesn’t own a car.

His sister didn’t give up easily, but after a lot of begging and pleading and promises she agreed to lent Shane her precious Chevrolet so he could drive to Philly this afternoon and then back the next morning.

So he’s driving, barely out of town, hyping himself up for the night, singing along to whatever was in the CD slot (which is Jason Mraz, so not terrible). He’s going to surprise Jamin before the gig, he’s going to watch the gig and then they can hang out, drink, laugh, go to bed together and be human and Shane won’t feel the suffocating emptiness that he feels when he’s sleeping alone.

He’s imagining Jamin’s face upon seeing him. He feels warmth and nervousness spreading across his entire body and he knows what this is, he’s fully embraced the feeling by now. He’s in love with Jamin. It’s stupid, illogical, impractical and makes absolutely no sense, but does life ever? They’re probably going to go down in flames spectacularly and still it’s scary as fuck, but there is no cure.

There’s only medicine that can temporarily lessen the symptoms, which is driving to Philly, the road open, the radio playi -

The sudden impact from behind sends Shane crashing forward onto the steering wheel, the seatbelt knocking the air out of his lungs as the car slides off the road and lands on its roof. The last thing Shane sees is the front window crashing into a million tiny pieces, some lights flickering, and then everything turns bloody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is alive again and I'd love to know what you think.


	5. Careful

“You fucking scared the living shit out of me, you whore.”

Shane fights the heaviness of his eyelids to crack open at least one eye, registering a lot of white, white ceiling, white walls and white sheets, and a redhead next to his bed.

“Ruby?”

“Of course it’s fucking me, who else did you expect? You put me as your ICE when you got that new phone.”

“That - that was supposed to be a joke.” Shane’s mouth seems to be full of cotton, his throat dry and painful. He concentrates on this pain, a bearable one, not wanting to deal with around twenty seven different types of pain in different places that he can feel.

Ruby snorts. “And look how that turned out. Try not moving too much, the nurses said it might hurt. Oh, I should probably call for one, wait.”

The nurse shines a blinding light right into his eye bulbs and asks him way too many questions he tries to answer with his aching throat. When the answers satisfy her enough to assume he didn’t suffer any brain damage, she lets him drink water and informs him of all the physical cracks, splinters and breaks in his body. Shane lets the information drift through his ears, moaning something about how everything hurts, so the nurse takes pity on him, shooting something up his IV with a mysterious smile before she leaves.

Ruby returns with Raga and luckily, they know Shane enough not to ask any questions right now. The two talk to each other, letting Shane listen in, the pillows becoming cozier and softer every second. His eyes are almost glued shut when Raga holds him softly by the wrist and says, “By the way, your boyfriend almost flipped a shit when we called him. He’s on his way here right now.”

Shane really wants to ask “Who?” and “What?”, but the air is too sticky and his tongue too tied in knots.

*

The next time Shane drifts back to reality, it’s like hours have passed ever since he was last awake and he recognizes the hand holding his before he even opens his eyes. Jamin is running a thumb over his knuckles, left and right, endlessly. He’s wearing a hoodie and looking out of the window, bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept all night.

Shane squeezes Jamin’s hand to signal that he’s awake, and their gazes cross, Jamin leaning forward with his entire body, bringing one hand to touch Shane’s face carefully, like he’s made of glass. “Thorgles. What the fuck? I was terrified. Are you alright? Should I call the doctor?” He keeps his voice quiet, like speaking up might hurt Shane, but right now, Shane’s feeling nothing at all.

“It’s okay.” He croaks out, amused at the awful sound his voice makes. “They gave me morphine.”

“Wow. Do you think they’ll hook me up too if I ask nicely?”

Shane tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a dry cough.

“Shh, take it easy.” Jamin puts a finger on Shane’s lips, bringing up his hand to his mouth to lay soft kisses on it. Shane feels them like butterfly touches, his head empty and airy, his body like coated in liquid sugar.

“Mhmmm…sleep”, he mumbles. “You - here? Will you stay?”

“Of course I will. Don’t worry about anything.”

Shane drifts away, back to his dreams full of lip rings and hairspray and bad whipped cream and crashing cars.

*  
An ambulance takes Shane home a few days later. His left leg is broken in three different places, he has fractured a couple of ribs, but no internal damage by some miracle. He’s trying to fall asleep, every ache in his body counting down the seconds until passing out to the world of no pain, but then he hears Jamin’s spare key in his lock and the door creaks open, Jamin entering the bedroom with a bag like he robbed the pharmacy.

“Ruby told me you were driving to Philly”, he says, setting down the bag, and he seems like he’s mad, as far as Shane can tell, but he doesn’t really trust his own judgement.

“Look, let’s not”, he says, the words coming out tripping over each other. “Let’s fight about this some other day, okay?”

“I’m not - I don’t want to fight about this, are you crazy? I’m just - you took a car to see me? And you almost killed yourself? How am I supposed to process this?”

“You’re yelling, Jay.” Shane hates how whiny his voice sounds right now, but he’s feeling low, hurt and miserable and there’s no use pretending otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Jamin apologizes, but without much conviction, yet still everything calms down when he starts unloading the pharmacy bag onto Shane’s bedside table, looking at him with something bordering on affection. Again, Shane really doesn’t trust his own judgement at this moment. Everything he wants to do is complain.

“Will I ever be able to play the violin again?”

“Your arms and hands aren’t broken, so of course, why not? Stop worrying, okay? It slows down the recovery process.”

“I’ll miss so many gigs, oh my God, will everyone forget who I am? They will, won’t they? Thorgy Thor, tragically dead and forgotten soon afterwards. Fuck, this is a tragedy.”

“Shut up, you can still do gigs with a broken leg. Don’t you think people would show up even if you sat on a bar stool and yelled ‘woo!’ for half an hour?”

Shane giggles before he realizes that it’s hurting his entire body.

“How bad is it?” asks Jamin worryingly, not daring to touch Shane.

“Pretty bad. It’s mostly - mostly the ribs, I think. I miss the morphine.”

“Well, they did prescribe you Vicodin, and you can take another one in - ”, he checks his watch, “exactly two hours. How about that, Thorg?”

“I’ll be dead by then”, whines Shane, and in that moment, he means it.

Jamin contemplates something for a second before he stands up and leaves the bedroom without a word, a sigh escaping Shane’s mouth, but Jamin is back in less than a minute with a glass of water.

“Whatever, I’m a bad nurse.” He hands Shane the glass and a white pill, Shane quickly swallowing and draining the liquid.

“You’ve just added two hours to my life, so I’d say you’re a good nurse after all. Best I ever had.”

Jamin scoffs, shaking his head. Shane has an urge to take him by the arms and shake something out of him, anything, a word, a curse, a scream, but his head hurts so much it might burst at the seams if Jamin actually spoke above a certain level.

“Lay down with me?”

As soon as Jamin does, Shane drags his unruly betrayer of a body as close to him as possible, Jamin understanding and helping with the endeavor until Shane can bury his face in the other man’s grey t-shirt. Jamin cradles his head, gently caressing his shoulders, and he smells like Shane’s home.

Shane’s home is New York, Shane’s home is the stage, Shane’s home is right here.

He’s so grateful he nearly whispers _I love you_ , but his throat is shut, all determination away, taking a holiday. He just mutters “Jamin, I - ” into the grey fabric of the shirt.

“Shh, I know. I know, Thorgy.”

Pain sort of dulls a few hours into the night and Shane manages to get some sleep, Jamin never leaving his side.

*

“Look, Jamin, you don’t have to stay.” Shane is sprawled on the couch, his broken leg leaning on the coffee table, while Jamin walks out of Shane’s kitchen on another day with a cup of ramen noodles he’s slowly eating. “I will handle it somehow. Raga and Ruby can come help me. Or my sister, or whoever.”

“It’s okay, I can stay. I’ve got time.”

“You do? What about your gigs then?”

Jamin blinks, not looking at Shane. “I don’t have any until next week except for one here in New York.”

“Oh yeah? And how many did you cancel?”

Jamin puts away the ramen and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, joining Shane on the couch, situating himself where Shane’s healthy (well, not broken) leg ends. “Thorgy, come on. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” Shane hates seeing how Jamin can just be wasting Acid Betty’s potential away; they are still at the high of their careers, but their season 8 stint is going to end rather sooner than later. “I told you already that you shouldn’t blame yourself for the accident, I went because I wanted to, I should’ve never taken a car in the first place, but I don’t want you doing this out of pity or because you feel obliged to or whatever, you know what I mean? Because - “

“Shane.” Jamin using Thorgy’s boy name is a sign of his emotions not being in check anymore. “Fucking shut up, alright? I’m doing this because I _want_ to, okay?”

Something in his face and the tone of his voice is clear proof that he’s not lying, and Shane can’t take it anymore. He tries to scramble off his spot on the couch to get closer to Jamin, feeling the immediate need to be enveloped by his friend’s warmth, the necessity to show him how grateful he is for his presence. He tries to get up, he really does, but his leg is at a weird angle, the pain too strong to ignore, so he only manages to wince and pull Jamin by the front of his shirt. Jamin falls on top of him, the impact reminding Shane that he’s got broken ribs as well.

“Are you oka - “

He doesn’t let Jamin finish, kissing him with the full amount of force he’s capable of, which is not much, but Jamin understands. He kisses Shane back with no inhibitions, supporting himself on elbows resting on the sides on Shane’s head.

“I don’t think we should, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re covered in bruises and cuts. Literally covered.”

“No, please, please. I need you so much, I want you, _I need you_ ”, he practically whispers in hot breaths into Jamin’s open mouth. “Just be gentle, alright? I want this. Please.”

Shane can see Jamin’s defence crack, his cock hardening against Shane’s thigh. “Okay, baby, okay. I want it too. Just - promise to tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

Shane nods and gulps. Have they ever been gentle with each other during sex? They mostly fucked raw and dirty and both enjoyed it immensely that way. But if they did that tonight, Shane would probably die, and he doesn’t want to. Jamin has declared he wants to be here, and Shane wants to live.

“We’ll do this nice and easy, baby. Do you trust me?” Jamin has his hand resting against Shane’s jaw, touching the stubble there, and Shane can feel the heat gathering below his collar. They look each other deep in the eyes, Shane fighting the sudden urge to giggle at the unnecessary seriousness of the moment.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

Shane needs to fight to keep his mind afloat through this. He’s biting his lip, drawing nails into the flesh of his own forearm, counting cracks in the ceiling while Jamin is licking him open, kneeling in front of the couch. One of Shane’s legs is thrown over Jamin’s shoulder, the other, broken one, still resting on the coffee table. The torturous pace of Jamin’s tongue almost causes Shane to black out, and at one point he’s screaming, screaming for dear life while Jamin never stops what he’s doing. Shane can only feel these two things: the primal, electric pleasure running from where Jamin’s tongue is buried in his flesh through the rest of his body, and the suffocating pain of his broken ribs. He’s not sure with one hits harder.

“Jamin, Jamin, Jay, oh my fucking God, I - please…”

Jamin expertly buries his finger inside of Shane, hitting the spot and keeping at it, Shane’s hands flying for his own throbbing cock and he comes after just a couple strokes, with a whimper that seems to never end. His soul almost leaves his body when he sees Jamin standing up in front of him, his pants and underwear off, touching himself and then guiding Shane’s head closer. Shane understands in a blink, wrapping his tongue around the other man’s cock, the weight of it familiar on his tongue. Oh, how he missed that taste. He’s still coming off his own orgasm when he’s blowing Jamin, his lover’s hands in his hair, holding onto the dreadlocks, and Jamin is whispering sweet nothings, moaning and grunting.

All Shane can feel is that he’s weak, so weak he’s about to fall apart when Jamin finishes in his mouth and he swallows everything like the good girl he is.

Jamin strokes Shane’s hair and for a while they just stay there, losing minute after minute, and then Jamin notices how Shane’s brain is still in a faraway place and softly guides him back to a horizontal position on the couch, bringing him a wet towel to clean up. Afterwards, he sits down on the floor, finding Shane’s hand to hold.  
“I think I forgot about the ‘nice and easy’ part. Are you alright?” Jamin kisses Shane’s knuckles, a roaring feeling stirring in Shane’s chest again. He looks for Jamin’s bright eyes, a slight blush on his cheeks and his hair in disarray, and fuck, Shane really fucking wants to keep him, even if he knows he’s not entitled to.

_No, I’m not alright, I’m fucked up._

“Of course I’m alright, girl, I’m better than alright, actually I’m incredible, see? I can even do this.” Shane tries to perform his signature high kick with his healthy leg, and he succeeds, but sends a jolt of pain to his ribs that makes him wince in pain. “Oww. Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t have done - that.”

“Did I ever tell you you’re a cuckoo bird?”

“About 2461 times.”

“And she can count!” Jamin gets up, leaning down to kiss Shane on the forehead, the touch of the other man’s lips like a little gift in its own merit. Shane lays still as Jamin wraps him in a blanket. “Wanna watch a movie or sleep now?”

“Fall asleep watching a movie?”

“Fuck you, that wasn’t an option.”

“I just made it one because you’re not the boss of me.”

“Bitch, you wouldn’t even be able to get yourself water for your pills on your own right now.”

“Oh! Pills. Can I?”

Jamin looks at him like, _I told you so_ , purses his lips and brings him Vicodin again, this time feeding it to Shane from his palm.

*

It’s a group effort to bring Thorgy out to a TNT Monday show, but they manage somehow. When she hobbles onstage on crutches to later sit down in a comfy armchair, the applause almost brings Thorgy to tears. She missed it so much, even if tonight’s performance is mostly just cracking jokes and lipsyncing to something unusually slow while sitting down. Jamin is there too, just having returned from Toronto, watching from the sidelines and showing Thorgy a thumbs up each time she looks to the side of the stage.

The amount of “Get Well Soon” cards and flowers she receives is through the roof, Jamin and Ruby carrying them to Shane’s apartment while Ragamuffin assists Shane in making sure he doesn’t fall flat on his face on the pavement.

All Shane had to drink that night was one symbolic Bud Light. One. Jamin would never let him have more, since that would mess with the painkillers too much, and he isn’t stupid himself. He wants a quick recovery. He feels weirdly sober wiping off his makeup while Jamin helps him unpin his wig. They work fast and efficiently, quipping jokes and stories back and forth, and for the first time ever since his accident, Shane almost feels like himself again.

They crash on the couch afterwards, too late to go to sleep and too early not to, Jamin sitting down while Shane lies down with his head on the other man’s lap. He’s feeling like himself, but he’s also feeling kind of weird, too, and that doesn’t stop him from running his mouth; hell, maybe that’s the reason he’s running his mouth.

“Hey Jamin, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Jamin is not paying that much attention, scrolling through Twitter and typing out responses.

“Are we a couple?”

Jamin puts down his phone to look at Shane with a frown. “No. We’re not, are we? I don’t think we are.”

Shane sits up, mindful of his broken leg, carefully shifting his weight. He tries to be lighthearted about all this, even though his pulse is running wild. “Do we want to be, maybe?”

Jamin freezes. He literally stops moving, breathing, it’s like just a void body sitting here next to Shane, except then he blinks, takes in some air and his face lights up as if he made a decision. He moves like he wants to grab Shane by the hand, but changes his mind to take Shane’s face in both palms instead. “I’d love that, actually. What about you?”

Shane smiles so hard he feels his eyes crinkle, airy light bubbles of happiness floating through his body, and he nods eagerly, his heart all warmed up by Jamin’s grin. They’ve been behaving like a couple for a long time now, so that shouldn’t change anything, except it changes a lot. He does a little shimmy with his shoulders, sliding closer to Jamin on the couch, right into his embrace, remembering seeing Acid Betty that first day in the workroom and thinking, _this will definitely be some kind of an adventure._

“Okay, then it’s settled. Let’s make our first conscious decision as a couple then.”

“And what would that be?” Jamin laughs, his hand landing on Shane’s thigh.

“Should we get Chinese at 4 AM?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! Talk to me if you're reading this! <3


	6. Guiding You Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Little Wanderer by Death Cab For Cutie.

It’s a cold, cold morning in London.

Snow is softly falling behind the window, painting a picture straight from a fairytale, but it’s not enough for Jamin, not nearly enough to just look at it. He throws on a sweater and steps out, to the balcony. The snow screeches underneath the soles of his shoes and he hasn’t felt that for a year. It’s magical as the snowflakes sit on his skin, small, mysterious and otherworldly, the city looking like it fell into eternal sleep and nobody is ever allowed to make noise again.

Jamin snaps a photo of the pure white landscape and sends it to Shane. _Wish you were here._

*

Missing someone has a bittersweet taste.

Sometimes it tastes like morning waffles with maple syrup that are less fun to make and eat alone.

Sometimes it’s Jamin’s shirt, an old denim shirt stained with neon paint, that still smells faintly like him and that Shane takes to bed, because it helps him sleep easier.

Sometimes it’s a photo of snow-covered London he receives at 3 in the morning. Yeah, Shane wishes he was there too. He’s blaming his stupid leg and his stupid accident and the two remaining weeks of physical therapy for missing Jamin, for missing snow in London, for having to eat waffles alone.

*

_I wish you could see this lol. They’re amazing!_

Jamin opens a short video of a local drag performance in San Francisco: the angle is off, the lighting is bad and the filmmaker’s hand is unsteady; so obviously Shane’s work. The performers are doing a skit very reminiscent of Thorgy’s early stuff, so Jamin is not surprised at all that Shane enjoys it.

They measure time in _good morning_ and _goodnight_ messages now. Sometimes the morning text arrives at 7 PM. Sometimes the texts are accompanied by photos, selfies with fans wearing their merch, pictures of other queens with captions like “Courtney Act says hello”. Sometimes, but not often enough, they find time for long Skype calls, and Jamin once styles a wig from scratch as he peeks on Shane making scrambled eggs in Raga’s tiny kitchen.

Jamin knows that everything fades away, every feeling, every wound, and he’s impatiently waiting for this hole in his soul to patch itself up as well, because he’s not sure how much longer he can take seeing Shane laugh on his phone screen, not in the same room, sharing the same air.

After he watches the performance Shane sent, Jamin texts back, _I like the blonde_ , and grins to himself when Shane calls him seconds later.

“What do you mean you like the blonde? You’re supposed to like me the most.”

“You’re not in the video, so.”

“You motherfucker”, Shane laughs. He sounds boozed and coming down from an energy high and Jamin is ashamed to admit he didn’t remember in what city Thorgy was performing tonight until he got that video of a familiar San Fran stage. “What time is it there?”

“I - I keep forgetting.” He moves the phone from his ear to before his eyes to check the time, but he gets distracted by Shane’s caller ID: a photo in half drag, a glass of red wine by his lips, lips he can’t kiss right now, hands he won’t be able to hold for weeks on end.

“You there? Earth to Jay. Did you fall asleep?” Shane’s voice comes from the speaker, faint and far away, somebody laughing in the background. The noise reminds Jamin that Shane is actually doing something now, he’s got obligations, people to talk to, fans to meet, and that club bathroom phone call is just a minor detour in his busy night.

“Sorry. I’m here. It’s - it’s after two. Two hour difference.”

“Yes, yes, I’m going, Jesus - Jay, babe, I gotta go. See you soon, alright? I miss you like hell.”

Shane hangs up before Jamin can say _I miss you too_ , so he flicks on the hotel bedside lamp, pushes his sleep shorts really low and takes a photo for Shane, for later.

*

Shane is nervous.

It’s not a new feeling for him, nothing out of the ordinary, but this is a different kind of nervous, this one making his blood all bubbly and light, making it feel like he could possibly fly. He’s pacing around the airport, home in New York for three nights, watching the Arrivals board with his heart in his throat, worrying his fingernails between his teeth. The plane from LA lands at 5:56 PM. The text arrives three minutes later.

_**Jamin, 5:59 PM: Now that felt like forever.** _

_**Shane, 6:00 PM: Need you here ASAP** _

While he waits, Shane thinks of all the things he doesn’t do anymore. He doesn’t visit his dad every other weekend, doesn’t play the violin as often as he used to, doesn’t feed the ducks in Central Park on lonely nights, doesn’t get wasted with Ruby every Monday. He misses so many things now. But, on the bright side, being in love is a funny little thing that makes you miss a presence of one certain person so much you can forget about all the other things you miss.

And then, once in a while, you get to reap the rewards.

Jamin is pushing a baggage cart, coming through the glass door and looking around like he lost something. Shane puts up his hand to give him a wave, but he can’t really contain himself, so he starts jumping up and down, mentally begging Jamin to please walk faster, and seconds feel like hours before he gets to wrap his arms around the other man, feeling Jamin hug him too, and he has so, so much to tell him he needs to start right now.

But he can’t. He can’t because Jamin holds both sides of Shane’s face and starts kissing him, right there at the airport, their hearts beating to the rhythm of a song they both forgot existed, their lips sliding in a well-rehearsed way, puzzle pieces falling into place, at least for two nights.

*

It’s raining.

The night is ugly and cold, but it’s not like it matters. Shane lit a scented candle and set up some smooth music to play in the background before he let Jamin make him scream for dear life, and now he’s taking a shower, happily singing away to a pop tune.

Jamin understands now.

He understands the hole in his soul and why it will never be patched up. He understands the necessity to wake up at the break of dawn to the beep of his phone, the Facetime sessions where they just look at each other for hours before one of them finally falls asleep, he understands flying across the country just to lose himself in his boyfriend’s arms, even if it’s just for a moment, even if it’s just to hear his laugh and see his eyes crinkle as he smiles and then throw his drag into a suitcase frantically again to call a cab to the airport.

There’s a strangely familiar piece of fabric sticking from underneath Shane’s pillow, making Jamin frown in wonder. He pulls out a denim shirt, one of his own we was sure he lost, all splattered with pink and yellow neon paint, smelling like Shane’s shampoo and his aloe body wash. Warm and fragile affection blooms in Jamin’s heart as he imagines Shane falling asleep with his face resting on the shirt.

A home away from home.

He manages to put the shirt back before Shane walks out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around his hips, his pale skin an abstract painting of fresh bruises and bitemarks, a story of their desire told without any words.

Jamin understands everything very clearly.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Shane self-consciously wraps the towel tighter, then folds his arms across his chest in wait. “Come on, Jay, what the fuck is it?”

“I love you.”

Shane hesitates for a second, his features frozen in an expression of surprise and doubt, and then lets the towel fall, practically throwing himself at Jamin to suffocate him with breathless kisses, their naked bodies tangling again.

“I love you too.”


	7. Moments (ficlet collection)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of ficlets I wrote in response to prompts on tumblr. Will be updated! Enjoy!

(1)

Acid Betty peels off Jamin in bits and pieces.

A dress, folded up and put inside a bag.

A wig, unpinned in seconds and carefully stored away.

A bracelet, lost in a cab on the way to the hotel.

Shoes, dropped by the door, a heavy sigh leaving Jamin’s mouth as he throws himself on the bed next to Shane, Shane who is still Thorgy because he looks so good in just thights and a black bra and because his damn wig takes way too much time and energy to take off, especially for someone who had one too many a bloody mary.

Jamin in sweatpants, full face and no t-shirt beneath his studded hoodie is something Shane had learned to appreciate greatly. Jamin throws his legs over Shane’s lap, cuddling into his boyfriend’s neck for a moment first, before his familiar fingers start working on Thorgy’s wig to finally take it off.

“Someone tipped me a hundred tonight”, Shane says, enjoying the closeness of the other man and the comfort of this ordinary evening. Jamin is holding two bobby pins in his mouth, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

“They did?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure it happened only once before, when I used to do shows with Bob. I nearly went into hysterics.”

“Oh, did you?” Jamin’s evil half grin, half smirk makes Shane frown in deep concentration. Is that possible…?

“You bitch!”

“What? I really liked the performance.” Jamin says lightly, shrugging, removing bobby pins from his mouth to make room for new ones. “And I liked you. I thought you were cute back then.”

Shane breathes in, feigning offence, and slaps his open palm against Jamin’s naked chest. “So it was you! You tipped me a hundred! Bob and I bought a lot of booze for that, you know? And then I’ve spent years wondering whose dick I’m supposed to suck in gratitude.”

“Well, turns out you’ve been sucking that dick for quite a while now.”

“You’re fucking terrible”, Shane laughs, Jamin finally freeing him from the wig. Shane lets all of his dreadlocks down and moves to kiss Jamin’s cheek, slowly dragging his lips along the line of Jamin’s jaw.

“You’re eating my makeup, idiot.”

“And? What you gonna do about it? Tip me a hundred?”

Jamin has his palms clasped on Shane’s shoulders, and his breathing pattern becomes just a bit disturbed. “It depends. Will I like this performance too?”

Shane laughs, eyes wide, heart pumping his blood fast and away, and he feels so, so happy and alive when he’s pulling Jamin’s pants down. “I’ll personally make sure you enjoy it. A whole lot.”

(2)

“I can’t do this”, Shane throws his hands in the air and sits on the floor next to his half-packed suitcase. He’s drunk, they’re both drunk and this is the worst fight they’ve ever had, spewing insults at each other all the way from the bar to Jamin’s apartment, setting free all the bitterness about being in this weird version of a long-distance relationship, every bad thought and feeling they’ve managed to gather over their weeks apart.

Neither of them has a home now. Their home is somewhere between the airport, the cab, the backstage of yet another club in yet another city and the beds they’re in when they’re masturbating on Facetime. They don’t have a home together. They might never make one.

A messily curled wig lands on top of two pairs of boy pants Shane owns, followed by a scarf Thorgy likes to wear on her head, but then Shane is on the floor, hugging his knees, swaying back and forth, mumbling that he can’t do this, he can’t, he can’t, doesn’t want to.

Jamin falls to his knees and forces Shane to look at him. Tears are streaming down Shane’s face and they’re both so, so fucked up right now. This is all a bad, bad idea. Bad ideas seem to just follow one another in this relationship of theirs. Maybe they’ve even lost the right to call themselves a couple. Maybe they went too far, but there’s no way to go back now, that would hurt way too much.

Jamin wants to wash it all away. He wants to see Shane happy and bright and his, again. He makes a decision, feeling himself sobering up, picking up Shane’s half-packed suitcase and emptying it to the floor, things falling on top of each other, Shane watching calmly, sniffling.

“This has to stop. We’re going to bed.” He tries to pull Shane up, but somehow Shane pulls him down, and they end up lying on the floor, slowly letting go of everything that happened, burying the hurtful words beneath the darkness of the night, the lines between their bodies blurring, and Shane is repeatedly whispering how sorry he is, wrapping his leg over Jamin’s and making a move for Jamin’s cock.

Jamin stops his hand and Shane looks hurt, offended, broken. “You don’t want me…?”

“It just - it doesn’t feel right, Thorgles. Not now. It’s not… We can’t always deal with our issues like this.”

Jamin would gladly fuck their way out of every argument as well, but if they want to build something real, they should start behaving, as awful as it sounds, more responsibly. Talk to each other more.

The pain in Shane’s eyes fades, replaced by a mellow look of someone who is going to pass out any second. Jamin can feel useless, fleeting touches on his arms, back, neck. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Love you.” Shane hides his face beneath Jamin’s chin.

Jamin wants to say, _I love you too_ , but he doesn’t. He has loved before and it was always different, less suffocating, less vivid, less dark and never lasted that long with such intensity. “I don’t. I don’t love you. I have no idea what I feel for you, but it’s much, much worse.”

Shane is breathing evenly, asleep in Jamin’s arms.

(3)

“I’m really not sure about this, Shane.” Jamin is standing in front of a mirror, tying a tie while Shane is putting on shoes. They’re both dressed up all neat and tidy and Jamin almost doesn’t recognize Shane, but he can’t and won’t lie that he’s not attracted to this elegant, suit-wearing version of his boyfriend.

One of Shane’s cousins is getting married and they’re going to a wedding: their first official outing as a couple. There will be Shane’s family, there will be slowdancing and people asking questions and Jamin would have to explain that he impersonates a woman for a living to an army of clueless aunts and grandmas.

“Not sure about what?” Shane appears in the bathroom doorway, all ready to go, and regards Jamin with a small smile playing on his face. Maybe he likes the suited up thing too.

“The wedding. Or rather me going with you. Does everyone there even know that you’re gay?”

Shane giggles like Jamin just said something perfectly absurd.

“What. It’s a valid concern. Your entire family will be there.”

“They will”, says Shane, crowding Jamin against the bathroom sink and grabbing him by the tie, then proceeding to kiss him, pressing into him, lips warm and slow like they have all the time in the world and making out is the only thing they should be worried about right now. “I need you, though. So there’s no way you’re bailing. Now come on, ready? There might be traffic on the way.”

“Alright.” Jamin realizes he’s holding Shane’s hand, and he keeps doing that while they leave the apartment and walk down the stairs to hail a cab. “You know you look especially hot tonight, do you?”

Shane leans in, brushing his lips againts Jamin’s earlobe. “Right back at you, sir.”

(4)

“Ugh, Shane? He’s crying again, and I can’t find the off switch.”

When Shane agreed to take care of his nephew, he said it would only be an afternoon. Somehow an afternoon was turning into night, the toddler’s mom stuck in traffic because of a power shortage somewhere, and Jamin was losing his mind, slowly, but surely. He definitely wasn’t made for taking care of children, especially children too small to express their needs with words.

The baby was yelling his lungs out. Shane, meanwhile, was calmly reading a book in bed, his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose as he concentrated. When he looked up, a smile played on his lips. He put the book away, extending his hands. “Aww, give him to me, Jay!”

Carefully, Jamin picked up the baby, amazed at how these little lungs produced this much noise, and carried him to bed where Shane took the boy into his arms, softly caressing his hair, speaking something in a quiet voice.

Suddenly, there was silence. The baby grabbed at one of Shane’s stray dreadlocks, curiosity taking over, completely done with the crying. Jamin joined Shane in bed, the other man smiling up at him. Of course, of course Shane had some magical ability that made even all the children love him. Jamin had to admit there was something endearing about it. And hot, too.

Damn, he couldn’t think about sex when there was a baby in the room.

“How did you do it?”

“I’m just not annoyed at him like you are, you know what I mean? Kids can sense these things. Look, he’s actually falling asleep now.”

The baby was still tugged tight in Shane’s arms, one tiny fist around a dreadlock, eyes shutting close. Jamin slid in, laying his head on Shane’s shoulder and kissing his collarbone. “I think it’s magic, Thorg. Which Hogwarts house did you end up in?”

“Hufflepuff, what did you think? Too bad I’m hanging out with a Slytherin bitch now.”

Jamin chuckled, feeling his eyelids getting heavy as well.


	8. (do you think I'm a) Nasty Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Nasty Girl Gate 2016. Bonus points for finding a Selena Gomez reference and an All Stars 2 reference.

The club music is still playing, loud and proud, but Jamin can’t concentrate on the song anymore because Thorgy stumbles in through the dressing room door, a flurry of colorful ruffles and a cloud of fluffy hair, her criminally long legs dressed in yellow, and she’s a vision, she’s always a vision, but tonight she’s a guilty thief of all the spotlights.

This is a different hello than their usual ones. Jamin’s heart started beating way too fast when Thorgy first saw him in the audience and grinned and shook her head, _you bitch_ , at his surprise appearance.

She stops in the doorway, thinks for a second, and locks the door behind herself. With a key.

“What the hell was that nod, girl?”

Jamin leans back more comfortably on the dingy backstage dressing room couch. His entire body is already responding to Thorgy’s presence and he doesn’t feel the need to hide anything. “I was just answering your question.”

Thorgy’s eyes are glazed with alcohol and she is everything good in the world when she drapes herself over Jamin’s lap, unable to keep her sticky hands to herself, running her fingers up Jamin’s chest and then underneath his t-shirt, and Jamin is already so hard his head is spinning, which is made even worse when Thorgy starts grinding against him, a completely evil chuckle escaping her lips.

“So you think I’m a nasty girl? You really think so?”

“No, Thorg, I don’t think so. I _know_ so.” Jamin wraps his hands on Thorgy’s lower back and tries hard to keep them there, just there.

Before Thorgy leans in, she takes Jamin’s glasses off and gently puts them away on the dresser. Jamin is pretty sure she’ll kiss him, but she’s all wicked grin and hot, slightly drunk breath when she says, in a poor attempt to mimic Alaska’s Mae West impersonation, “Then why don’t you come on up and fuck me in the ass sometime?”

Jamin breaks out in laughter, Thorgy still in his lap looking pretty damn proud of herself, so he pulls her in by the stupid ruffles of her stupid fashion clown dress and kisses her, not bothered about the taste of makeup and beer, because this is who he’s with, this is their reality: his boyfriend dressed up to resemble a woman, probably, making all of Jamin’s blood escape to the lower part of his body, and they haven’t seen each other for… how long has it been? Three weeks? A month? He moves his lips to the spot right below Thorgy’s ear, probably licking off all of her foundation, biting down, and Thorgy moans, rutting against him, needy and almost hopeless, pressing her short nails into Jamin’s naked forearms. Jamin pulls on her yellow tights.

“Off with these, baby.”

Thorgy jumps off his lap, once again sparkly with energy and enthusiasm, quickly getting rid of her heels, tights and padding, the ruffles of her dress making Jamin unable to see if she’s got any underwear on or just a piece of tape, but he can hear the piece of tape being ripped off and Thorgy groaning in discomfort before she smiles at him again, the loud music from the club still a rumble behind closed doors. Jamin searches his bag for a bottle of lube he’s carrying, because it never hurts to be prepared, and when your boyfriend is Shane Thor Galligan, you never know what’s waiting for you behind the corner.

The thrill of living like that is as exciting as it’s exhausting.

“You can’t fuck up my makeup too much though, I still have to close the show later, you know.”

“Thorgles, you know I don’t give a fuck.” He frees his hard cock from his underwear and pants, not even taking anything off, and lubes himself up generously, trying to keep eye contact with Thorgy, but her eyes are slipping, watching Jamin’s hand intently and with hunger. She is drunk enough to just go out onstage later and tell the audience she just got plowed in the dressing room. Jamin wouldn’t put it past her, but that’s just her prerogative.

She strides to him, something both hilarious and fucking filthy about her intact wig, short dress and Shane’s hairy, naked legs, that soon wrap themselves around Jamin’s body on the couch again. Jamin squeezes some lube onto his fingers as well, going for Thorgy’s entrance and pressing in two at the same time, the delicious sound his lover releases making it all worth it. He’s been on the plane for six hours just to hear that sound again, and that’s okay. Thorgy adjusts herself in Jamin’s lap, grabbing his free hand and pinning it up over his head for a moment and Jamin gets a flashback to her smelling his armpit during the performance, but he blinks and just sees Shane, his Shane, a touch softer than Thorgy and much, much less put together.

“Come on, I’ve been preparing myself for you for the whole week, no need to be gentle tonight, and no time either,” Shane says, briefly biting Jamin’s lower lip and pushing his hand away to grab for his cock, lifting himself up and then letting his body down, Jamin’s length disappearing inside smoothly, Shane’s moan another thing Jamin would like to record and store away to use as a soundbite in his next song. “You have five minutes to make me come. I can make it seven if I really, really like it.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Shane laughs, breathlessly, the pink feathers on top of his hat bouncing up and down while Jamin pounds into him, eliciting a groan after a moan and one scream loud enough for Jamin to put his palm over Shane’s mouth, the lipstick fucked up beyond repair already. Shane’s eyes go wide first before crinkling in the corners with realization and acceptance, and Jamin really wants to replace his hand with his lips, shove his tongue into Shane’s welcoming mouth yet again, but there’s no time, the precious minutes slipping by and he needs to keep it together.

Jamin slides his fingers into one of Thorgy’s hoop earrings, tugging on it, gently pulling Shane’s closer. Shane rests his sharp chin on Jamin’s shoulder and their bodies would be melting together already, only they’re both dressed and Jamin can feel the pads in Thorgy’s bra pressing against his chest.

How in the world is he still turned on through this freak show?

Shane starts going faster, dictating the pace, impatient and always wanting too much all at once, his up and down motions convincing Jamin neither of them is going to last much longer. He flicks his tongue against Shane’s ear, earning another happy sound, and whispers, “Now, are you a nasty girl or not?”

Shane anchors himself with hands braced on the back of the couch and leans back a little to send Jamin a brilliant grin. “I’m _your_ nasty girl, Jay.”

Jamin finds Shane’s cock beneath the frills of the dress and starts pumping to the rhythm of the music of Shane’s moans. It’s all downhill from there: he flicks his thumb over the tip, Shane almost screams, leans forward to crush their lips in a painful, messy kiss and comes all over his dress and Jamin’s t-shirt. Jamin gives in to the pleasure as well, the movements of his hips something that’s beyond his control at this point as he rides it out inside of Shane, focusing his gaze on Thorgy’s eyebrows and the flawlessly painted cheekbones.

The smile he gets from Shane seconds later is nothing if not mischievous.

“So, how did I do, timewise?”

“Girl, I have no idea. I might have blanked out for a second there. Oh shit, fuck, you ruined my dress.” Shane rolls off to sit next to Jamin on the couch and they can both survey the amount of damage done.

“No, babe, _you_ ruined your dress. It’s not like it’s my cum all over it.”

Shane feigns offence, giggles and then kisses Jamin’s shoulder, hard, before getting up to find some tissues. “You bitch, it’s not like I made myself cum all over it. Asshole.”

“I can help you spill a drink to cover it up if you want me to.”

“Nah, I think I’m okay.” Shane is in full Thorgy mode again, pulling on the yellow tights and slipping on pumps, a few quick movements enough to fix his lipstick and powder, not even bothering to tuck again just for closing the show. “You, on the other hand, mister? You’re a mess. See you at my place later, huh? Call us a cab.”

Thorgy blows him a kiss and unlocks the door, almost running out, the clicking of her heels not loud enough to be heard over the music. Jamin pulls off the dirty t-shirt, changing into one of Thorgy’s merch lying around, and catches his face in the mirror.

Crimson red lipstick is all over his face: his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead, his neck, too. He also finds a bite mark that will blossom to be a bruise by tomorrow. He looks a mess, but he finds himself not caring, remembering the pure bliss he managed to put on Shane’s face just minutes ago.

He’s so, so fucking whipped.


	9. Fire Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song “This Mess We’re In” by PJ Harvey feat. Thom Yorke. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

_Can you hear them,_   
_the helicopters?_   
_I’m in New York,_   
_No need for words now._   
_We sit in silence._   
_You look me_   
_in the eye directly,_   
_You met me._   
_I think it’s Wednesday,_   
_the evening._   
_The mess we’re in_

I’m sitting on a fire escape.

The wind is blowing, making my hair dance in the most unexpected of ways, and I feel like I look the most beautiful I ever looked, only you’re not here to take a picture.

I’ll live.

I love the city. I love the city so much that I hate the city. I have told everybody and their mother, have told everybody who wanted to listen and those who didn’t, that I hate the city. I would be nothing if not the city, so maybe I’d rather be nothing. Maybe I’d rather be a speck of dust that sits on your lips when you walk a dusty road. Maybe I’d rather be a thread running from your sweater after it gets caught on a piece of wood. Maybe I’d rather be yours, for you to call me by any name you wish.

A helicopter flies somewhere close, and I curl into myself to block the noise. It hurts. Everything does. Maybe I just need a stronger coffee, a pill, a bottle of beer, maybe I just need to stop being stupid.

I miss you. I miss you all day every day, I miss you on nights when I fall asleep alone in another nameless hotel room, but I miss you in New York the most, when we sit on the floor of my living room together, staring at each other’s faces in silence, holding hands like we’re checking if this is still real. I miss you when we’re together because I know you’re going to leave, or I’m going to leave, and it won’t make a difference.

The sun sets in colors of gold, orange and blood. The sun sets in all the colors that remind me of you, your colorful paint all over my white pillowcase, your warmth, your breath on my neck when you fall asleep with me on a blanket spread in front of the TV, your hands on my skin when we’re making love to the tune of another sad song you picked. Why did you pick a sad song again?

The wind plays with my hair while two streams of tears run down my face, behind my glasses. This will pass. Every bad mood eventually goes away. Every bad moment is just a moment, it’s not forever, except it feels like forever while it lasts. The wind gives me goosebumps all over my legs and a terrible case of fall nostalgia. This will pass, I tell myself, and I jump slightly when I feel a steady hand on my shoulder.

“Thorg, you’ll get cold. How about you come back inside?”

I let you guide me, sit me on the bed and wrap me in a blanket. I let you wipe away my tears and hold me until everything goes away, no words, because we don’t need words anymore. You know me so well.

You know me well enough to manage my mess for me.


	10. Sleeping In The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Sleeping In The Woods by Midnight Lion.

Shane wakes up restless, darkness spread thin around him, the blanket suddenly way too hot and wrapped way too tight around his body. Thoughts in complete disarray, he shakes Jamin’s arm, tonight a rare occurrence when they’re peacefully asleep together, nothing to do, nowhere to be.

“Jamin! Jay. Jay, do you know the song?”

Shane tries to hum the melody before realizing he doesn’t remember the music as much as the general feeling of the song, something somber and nostalgic, something that reminded Shane of looking at the open sea in the early hours of the morning, listening to nothing but the waves and his own heart, and the heart is beating like the rhythmic drum in the song he can’t remember.

Jamin doesn’t even crack an eye open, just sighs and pulls Shane closer, resting his forehead against Shane’s naked chest and muttering sleepily, “You… absolute… lunatic.”

Shane stares at the wall for God knows how long, music and lyrics running through his thoughts and painting a very incomplete picture. One of his hands is mindlessly caressing Jamin’s back, skin warm against Shane’s fingertips, and not having Jamin in his life is yet another thing Shane cannot remember.

*

_Shane doesn’t trust himself some days, but he always trusts Jamin. There was a time when Jamin was a complete mystery, but like a musician learns the score, Shane has learned all of Jamin’s notes._

_He remembers the season 8 bus tour and all the cities they were visiting, everything a blur of constant hurry, never eating enough, always being in half drag and half drunk. He remembers the tension between himself and Jamin, a residue from years ago, a hazy memory of a blowjob in a dingy club bathroom when they were young, younger, more naive, crazy hopeful and fearless._

_Shane was told to have chemistry with everybody, but he didn’t /feel/ chemistry with everybody. There was something about Jamin though, something about meeting him on that tour that made Shane’s blood boil and his nerves dance on the edge, something making him want more blowjobs in less dingy bathrooms, catching the remains of Acid Betty’s vibrant makeup on his tongue._

_Before he even did anything, on the road from the first premiere to the second, they were eating in a diner and before Shane even ordered his coffee, Jamin approached him, placing a hand on his arm, looked him right and bold in the eyes and asked, “Do you trust me?”_

_Shane nodded, quickly, sort of thrown off, his entire body already feeling electric from Jamin standing way too close and keeping physical contact. The other man gestured and Shane followed him to the diner bathroom, to the stall that Jamin locked, and Shane was struggling to breathe._

_“Look, if you want to murder me, you know I didn’t win the show anyway, so you can just -” Shane started rambling, but next second he was being pushed against the stall wall, kissed with fierce determination, somewhat shocked, but not shocked enough to forget to wrap his hands around Jamin’s neck and try to bring him even closer, pushing one leg between both of his. What was happening?_

_He couldn’t ask. Jamin kept kissing him, methodical and focused and his lip ring cold against Shane’s mouth and tongue, something so dirty and exciting about it Shane couldn’t stop himself from grinding against Jamin’s hip just a little, the other man’s breath hitching._

_Nothing else happened though. Jamin broke the kiss, running a hand down Shane’s chest with an almost font gaze and then simply leaving, Shane taking another three minutes in the stall to force his breathing back to normal._

_That was the beginning of their little tour adventure that has, somehow, stretched far into their post-RPDR lives._

*

In the morning, the song is still roaring in Shane’s brain, haunting him, and it’s pissing him off. He shakes off the blanket and before he does anything else, he trots to the living room and opens Jamin’s laptop, left hastily on the armrest of the couch last night.

He types random pieces of lyrics he forces himself to recall into the search engine. Something about lakes, something about woods, something about being brave… “Brave touch. Bravest touch?”

Shane doesn’t understand why, but he needs to find the song, or he’ll probably never sleep again. The feeling grows and grows in his chest, the melody and the dreamy feeling that comes along with it like a long lost lover he’s looking for at a crowded airport. Jamin gets out of the bedroom and stands behind Shane just as another Google search brings up a Youtube link. Shane presses play and breathes properly for the first time since he woke up in the middle of the night.

He has found the song. “I found the song, Jay.” He reaches behind his back to grab Jamin’s hand and tangle their fingers together. Jamin leans in, resting his chin on Shane’s shoulder as they listen to the song, and Shane can feel all of his senses aligning as the feeling turns into sounds and rhythms and lyrics that swim through the apartment. At some point, Jamin starts kissing Shane’s neck, moving lower and lower, but Shane is too focused on the song, remembering when he first listened to it. It was during the season 8 bus tour.

“So, what do you think?” Shane asks, impatient to know his boyfriend’s opinion on the song.

“It’s okay. Needs a violin solo, though.” Jamin pushes the laptop off Shane’s knees, situating himself in its place and attacking Shane with kisses again, Shane giving in willingly, not even realizing he has the song on loop and it’s playing over and over again while they have sex.

*

_Shane was sure he could feel his pulse in his throat, his blood between his teeth, and even though the evening was unusually calm, it was attacking all of his senses at once. They were sleeping in a hotel that night and everybody was either locked up in their rooms already or in the hotel bar, looking for free drinks. The only thing Shane was looking for was some peace. Luckily, the hotel was right by a picturesque lake, Shane walking the wooden pier to the very end only to find that someone was already there._

_In the eerie glow of the moon, Jamin was lying flat on his back, headphones in, eyes closed, his naked feet dangling inches from the water._

_Last night, they fucked for the first time. Now was the defining moment in which they’d decide whether to pretend it never happened or acknowledge that somehow and move on. /But move on where?/, Shane’s thoughts were screaming. Jamin looked peaceful and completely at ease, his face perfectly still, but he wasn’t asleep, since his feet were moving. Something about Jamin made Shane’s soul break out into songs, because he didn’t figure Jamin out yet, but he felt like he was very, very close. He kind of wanted to hide him from the entire world, lock him away somewhere far away and slowly analyze him, inch by inch, every second bringing them closer together. Unfortunately, Shane had a lot, but he didn’t have time._

_Not to mention Jamin was absolutely amazing in bed. Shane was still slightly fucked up from last night._

_Shane didn’t want to scare Jamin, so he lied down next to him as gently as he could, trying not to touch him, but the movement made the other man open his eyes. Slight breeze from the water that ruffled Jamin’s hair, the completely otherwordly surroundings, muffled electronic music coming from the headphones Jamin removed: everything disappeared when he turned his body towards Shane and pulled him in, no questions asked, no answers needed, their tongues burning hot against each other as their mouths joined, Jamin’s steady hands around Shane’s shaky body._

_“What was that for?” Shane asked, his hand slowly tracing the line of Jamin’s spine, pretty sure that he’ll wake up on the floor of their bus in just a second with aching joints and Bob’s head on his knee. But the dream seemed to last, Jamin content to just look at Shane’s face with a light, teasing smile._

_“No reason. It’s a beautiful evening, you’re here, I wanted to make out with you.”_

_“Oh. Oh. Of course. Okay then.” Shane wasn’t sure if they were playing a game or if, for some reason, Jamin was telling him what he was really thinking. Maybe they didn’t need to talk just yet. Maybe they didn’t need to talk at all, actually. There were so many things easier and more enjoyable and just within Shane’s reach. “Wanna do that for a while longer?”_

_“It’s not like we’re in a hurry or anything…”_

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'd love to hear your opinions. Talk to me in the comments or on samrull.tumblr.com !


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